


Languorous

by letsdothepanic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Play, Birthday Sex, Breakfast in Bed, Established Relationship, Finger Sucking, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Morning Sex, Non-Penetrative Sex, Remus Lupin Lives, Sirius Black Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-12-27 02:36:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21111281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsdothepanic/pseuds/letsdothepanic
Summary: Languorous: characterized by laziness or inactivity, especially of a pleasurable kind.Or: It’s Sirius’ sixtieth birthday and Remus brings him breakfast in bed.Written for Sirius Black Fest 2019.





	Languorous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jennandblitz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandblitz/gifts).

> hey, jenn! i love you. hope you'll enjoy this little gift fic ♡

The forecast for today promises “brilliant sunshine”, but it is still too early for it; certainly earlier than Remus would have chosen to wake up on a regular Sunday, at least. The passing of time has made him more inclined to just accept his own so-called bad habits, and not being a morning person is definitely one of them. 

Alas, there’s a good reason to be awake this morning. Something better than the “brilliant sunshine” that the weatherman has promised for later on, or the party Remus knows Harry has planned for lunch time. There’re still pinks and oranges colouring the horizon behind their bedroom curtains when Remus sneakily slides off their bed and leaves Sirius to sleep in a little longer, padding down the stairs as quietly as he can, but Remus is sure it will be worth it.

Ignoring the way the joints in his fingers protest, Remus sets to cut up a cantaloupe into neat squares. The pain potion he drinks in the mornings usually takes up to half an hour to give back full, pain-free use of his hands, but he’s in a bit of a hurry today. Sirius is an early riser, especially on good weather days. It’s like the dog in him can _ sense _the opportunity for a walk in the sunshine, and Remus doesn’t mind it one bit. He’s glad to see his partner happy; glad to see the healthy glow that seems to have taken permanent residence on Sirius’ (barely) lined skin.

As he moves on to tap the kettle with his wand so the water for coffee will heat up to just the perfect temperature (can’t have it boil, if they’re using the French press), Remus thinks of how content Sirius will be later, when everyone gathers at Harry’s for his birthday. Sixty is a neat, round number, Remus thinks, glancing at the calendar they keep on their kitchen door. “2019” looks like too big of a number there, in bold, black lettering. It doesn’t feel like a _ year _ kind of number, or at least not like a year they thought they’d be there to see, back in the day.

As he stirs their scrambled eggs, Remus tries not to let his mind wander to those times in the past when 1990 –or even 1980-something– were years he didn’t think he’d be around to see, either. They’re past that, though; past wondering if they’ll be alive to see the numbers on the calendar change. They’re wizards, Remus tells himself, remembering the speech he has given Sirius every time he’s discovered a new grey hair. He’d been slightly put-off by Sirius’ reaction at first, seen as Remus himself has gone completely grey in his early forties, but now he gets it. Sirius’ relationship with time hasn’t been the best, even before everything had turned Dark; before they’d been forced to spend so many years apart.

With their breakfast plated nicely –eggs and bacon and coffee and fruit– Remus makes his way back upstairs. As he glances at the framed pictures that decorate their walls (of them and Harry, of Harry and his family, of their friends and their children and their pets), Remus reminds himself of something his mind healer has told him a while back. Another year they’re healthy and together means that, at least proportionately, the years they’ve spent away from each other become fewer and fewer. And even though his knees protest as Remus walks quickly up the stairs; even though he’s got to take pain potions and continuously see a healer, and still transform every month, the passing of time is their friend, now. An ally.

“Good morning, _ darling_,” Remus murmurs, low and sultry. 

He has slid _ back _ into bed, after leaving the tray with their food on the desk, near the window. A handy _ Stasis _ Charm will make sure their breakfast is fresh for a while still, and that means Remus has all the time in the world to slide an arm around Sirius’ middle, embracing him from behind.

At the motion or the pet name, Remus isn’t sure, Sirius stirs. Remus can tell he’s not yet awakened by the way his verbal response comes in a quiet, throaty sound, followed by a heavy, exhaled breath. Sirius’ back is warm against Remus’ chest when he pulls him closer. He deliberately tangles their legs together, then, slowly and thoroughly, until they’re properly entwined. Remus holds his sleepy partner against his own body and breathes him in, letting his own eyes flutter shut. 

Unlike himself –who probably rescinds of the roasted coffee beans he’s just ground, or the smoky bacon strips he’s just pulled out of the oven– Sirius smells fresh and clean. Remus can tell he’s been using the herbal fortifying hair potions when he buries his nose into the back of Sirius’ head, into the mess of silky black hair he’s known so well, for what never feels like long enough. 

As Sirius begins to show signs of being more alert, Remus shifts in place and uses a gentle hand to brush the hair away from his nape. His skin is impossibly _ warm _ to the touch of Remus’ lips to it, and ever so soft. Remus knows that his own unshaven chin must feel scratchy against the spot where Sirius’ neck meets his back, but he also knows the sensation not to be unpleasant. Even if he _ didn’t _ know, he thinks, the way this sleepy Sirius makes a point of leaning into the touch would have given it away.

“Happy birthday,” Remus tells him, then, with a nip to the shell of Sirius’ ear and an arm back to holding his middle. 

“Mmm, thank you,” he hears in return, but not much else aside from a pleased, low little noise that sounds like it’s just come from the back of Sirius’ throat.

It’s Remus’ cue to close his lips around Sirius’ earlobe, then, to tug on it ever so gently and relish the feeling of having _ this _ man in his arms. Remus wants Sirius to have the happiest of birthdays, just as he wants him to have the happiest of _ all _days, for the rest of his life. And if he can personally make sure to improve said days by leaving small, wet kisses on a trail down Sirius’ neck, so be it.

“We’ve got quite a lot to do today,” Remus comments, letting his teeth scrape over Sirius’ pulse point. It’s something Remus has thought –and, at times, even _ hoped _ – might go away one day, the way he can _ sense _ Sirius’ blood flowing in his veins. These days, though, he doesn’t mind it. He doesn’t think of it as an instinct to _ harm _ him, but rather tries to resignify it as a way of his own body to remind him of how _ alive _ Sirius is. Of how lucky _ Remus _ is to have him, to kiss him, to feel him.

And so he chuckles deeply, at the way Sirius dismisses the idea that they’ve got things to do by scooting closer, pressing his bum against Remus’ groin. He might be fifty-nine years old, Remus thinks, but the way his own body reacts to being this near Sirius’ hasn’t changed since he was a boy and had no clue he was even _ attracted _ to him. Sirius’ pull is electric, and Remus can sense how his own magic seeks Sirius’, the image of tendrils of light and magical energy reaching out and _ pulling _ very clear in Remus’ mind.

“It’s my _ birthday, _ though,” Sirius’ voice is still heavy from sleep.

“That it is,” Remus tells him with a pointed roll of his own hips, earning himself a small gasp.

“I could decide to stay in bed all day.”

Yes, he could. But Remus knows him, knows Sirius will _ want _ to be at the party, knows he will want to receive all the gifts and congratulations from their loved ones. But right now, he also knows that there’s nowhere else Sirius might like to be, not when he’s decided to turn around and face Remus, lying now on his other side.

“You could, love,” Remus grants him, then, before closing the distance between them with a tender kiss.

There’s no hurry, Remus thinks, and moves his thigh to slot it right between Sirius’. He reaches out to touch his partner’s hair again, then, to brush it away from Sirius’ face and tuck it behind his ear. He knows it must be written all over his own expression, how much love he has for Sirius like this. Remus loves the smile lines around his eyes, loves the faint sunspots on his otherwise perfect skin. Remus loves the stray silver hairs on Sirius’ temples, and loves the way his grey eyes are just as bright and sharp as the first time he’s seen them from this close up.

“Don’t you want to keep me here?” Sirius quips and smiles, and Remus can’t stop himself from kissing him again; running his tongue over the seam of Sirius’ lips, easily being granted permission to taste him.

Remus’ eyes fall shut and the hand on Sirius’ hair descends to cup his jaw, his thumb grazing Sirius’ cheekbone. It’s Sirius who deepens their kiss, though; Sirius who tightens the leg he has around Remus’ to bring them even closer together. It is also Sirius who lets out the first _ moan, _ when his hard cock presses against Remus’ thigh; his erection so impossibly _ hot, _even through the several layers of fabric that separate their bodies.

“Always wanna keep you.” It’s Remus’ turn to smile, then, once they’ve come up for air. He makes a point of moving his hips as well, letting Sirius knows he’s just as aroused as he is. 

So, when they lean in to kiss each other again, there is no rush. There are lips on lips, and Remus’ blunt nails scraping over Sirius’ neck, and then small nibbles that make their way from Sirius’ chin to the long, elegant column of his throat, then onwards to where his sleep shirt has moved to expose a collarbone. 

There’s no urgency to bring each other off, so they are both allowed to take time to enjoy the small, electric jolts of pleasure that zip through their bodies when a roll of their hips makes the angle _ just right. _Remus lets himself suck small, red spots into Sirius’ creamy skin, which he knows will then bloom into purples and blues. Instead of ignoring how aware of Sirius’ _ circulation _ he is, Remus _ owns _ the instincts, relishing in the way he has learnt to bite down just gently enough to break only the thinnest of capillaries under his skin. 

“_Merlin,_” he hears Sirius curse, and knows it’s time to move back to kissing his lips. It wouldn’t do to let Sirius become impatient; wouldn’t do to deny him whatever he wants. Not today, at least; not on his _ birthday. _

And so Remus responds to the calling, and to the latest, _ delicious _press of Sirius’ clothed cock to his thigh by lazily pulling down at both their underwear and pyjama bottoms. He could have done this with magic, Remus thinks, could have vanished their clothes and summoned the lubricant from the bedside table, but this is not one of those days.

It’s a _ Sunday_, Remus thinks, and gasps lightly into Sirius’ mouth when their dicks _ finally _ meet one another. 

“Happy birthday to me,” Sirius tells Remus with the most mischievous of smiles, the one that makes his eyes crinkle and bares his sharp canines– _ and _looks ridiculously endearing with the way half of Sirius’ face is rested against their pillows, as they lie on their sides.

Remus’ response comes in the form of taking Sirius’ wrist in his hand, running a thumb over the delicate bones there before bringing it near. Their bare legs shift under the covers, and Remus can feel all his hairs there stand up, all wee sensitive follicles coming to life under Sirus’ gentle grasp, and the way he coaxes Remus’ thigh to rest over his own.

With a dart of his tongue to wet his own lips, Remus then kisses Sirius’ knuckles, one by one. He nuzzles into Sirius’ palm, nips on the flesh there before parting his lips and waiting. Sirius will know what to do, will know what he’s offering.

And he _ does._

Sirius slides his index and middle finger into Remus’ mouth and lets out a moan when Remus closes it around them, sucking them in. Still unhurried, Remus laves his tongue over them in a wet, languid kiss. The way they’re positioned doesn’t favour making a show of it, but Remus appreciates the way Sirius moves his hand, the way his thumb caresses the side of Remus’ chin. He enjoys all the stimuli; the weight on his tongue and warmth on his face. He enjoys the proximity, enjoys the texture of Sirius’ wand calluses and the way he tastes so familiar, after all this time.

Remus also enjoys it when Sirius pulls his fingers _ back, _ knowing it’s time to adjust and give him better _ access _. Even though it is not a day for lubricant and urgencies, it doesn’t mean it’s not a day for Sirius to reach down, smear Remus’ own spit over his arsehole and massage him there. The touch is light and languorous, but Sirius’ hand there is enough to keep Remus in the perfect position for them to frot against each other; the slide of their cocks facilitated by the precome that’s already begun to leak from both of them.

“Happy birthday to you,” Remus laughs rather breathlessly, finding a rhythm for the roll of his hips that will allow him to both press into the massage to his rim and into the delicious friction between their erections.

It’s hard not to pant like that; hard not to gasp and groan into their kisses when he feels his sensitive cockhead brush and catch against Sirius’ foreskin. It’s hard not to try and wiggle just a tad, just enough to change the angle so they’ll line up perfectly, now flush against one another. 

And so Remus stops holding back. He pants, and gasps, and moans, and goes back to nipping on Sirius’ chin and neck. He sucks bruises into Sirius’ skin just the way he likes them; the task slightly harder now that they’re older. Remus gives Sirius his undivided attention, his love, and his body to tease and play with. He feels the pleasure build in his stomach, toes curling against the sheets and his arsehole clench under the pads of Sirius’ fingers, which are still wet from Remus’ _ mouth_.

It’s a surprise when _ Sirius _ is the first to come, though. 

Remus barely registers the tell-tale twitch of his dick against his own; only the way Sirius moves to squeeze his arse cheek, pulling him impossibly closer all of a sudden, increasing the pressure. _ There _ is the urgency, on those two final thrusts of Sirius’ hips against Remus’; on the way he cannot seem to wait out that last minute before his orgasm.

And _ fuck, _Remus loves him for it. Remus loves languid, but he also loves urgent. He loves this man so thoroughly, he feels his cheeks heat up at the thought, even when he’s about to spill all over their stomachs– in _ their _ bed, in _ their _ bedroom, in _ their _home. On Sirius’ sixtieth birthday; one they were once both unsure they would be there to see, much less together.

“Mmm, love you,” Remus can’t stop himself from telling him, still shuddering slightly with a pointed aftershock; just one more magical-electrical wee discharge that leaves his legs feeling heavy, his spine molten.

Once he’s got the energy again, Remus may even consider scooting down on the bed –bad werewolf joints be damned– and _ licking _ them clean. With the new angle, he may even make a show of it; bite on his lip and moan at the taste of Sirius and _ himself _ together. Merlin knows he _ fucking _ loves it, but today might not be one of those days.

It’s Sunday, after all. And they’ve got their breakfast ready, under a _ Stasis _ charm. 

“Love you, too,” Sirius has just whispered into Remus’ hair, and used his wand to cast a gentle cleaning Charm over them. 

“Happy birthday, love,” Remus wishes him again, and rests his head on Sirius’ chest. There’s still a few hours until they have to be anywhere. They’ve got all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you, ro, for the beta read!
> 
> let me know what you think of this story here, or on [tumblr](https://letsdothepanic.tumblr.com/) ♡


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